Maternal and paternal love for most is ingrained.  But for some it is either missing or lost.  For some it is a learned behavior and they just don’t know any better because it was the way they were treated by their parents.  They never know real genuine love of a parent who truly knew how to express it.  Keep in mind I am in no way an expert, not a MD or PhD.  This comes from my own experience, what I grew up with and saw in my own family, on both sides.  But in order to understand why I have my opinions, I need to say at least in part, where they come from.

I am adopted, at least on one half.  My mother had me when she was 18.  The man I called ‘Daddy’ my entire life, even now, married my mother and adopted me as his own when I was 6 months old.  He was 27 at the time.  As a little kid I got to see both sides of what life is like.  There is my dad’s side of my family which was and is warm and loving, compassionate and forgiving.  The love they gave me was unconditional.  It didn’t matter to them that I wasn’t born to them.  Daddy loved me and that was all that mattered.  My mom’s side was different.  While they did love each other, it wasn’t the same. Criticism seemed to be a normal thing for them, especially with my grandmother. When you are domineering with your kids it rubs off and they think that is OK.  When girls are made to feel like they are not good enough and boys can never do no wrong, it can have an impact.  Love came with a price.  I remember when I was in elementary school and my mom would brush my hair, she would yell at me that she was tired of taking care of my ‘mop’.  I needed to do it my self and she wasn’t going to do it any more.  I was 6 or 7 at the time.   She would be mean.  Daddy would come in to say goodnight at bedtime and always reassure me everything was going to be all right.  She would never do that.  Being called ugly if I chose the wrong clothes or stupid when my report card would come was the norm for me with her.

My dad’s mom, my grandma was the polar opposite.  You will see that I always refer to my mom’s mom as my Grandmother or by her first name, and my dad’s mom as Grandma.  That’s how different they were, exact opposites.  Grandma was the definition of motherhood for me.  There was no such thing as too many hugs and kisses, saying I love you 100 times a day. Always being told you are beautiful and smart and funny was the way it was with her.  Grandpa was just as giving.  I don’t think I ever left his side when we were together.  They were just Grandma and Grandpa, along with Daddy were my world.  Family get together’s were always filled with laughter and joy, holding hands and goofing off.  It was always fun. With all of them I knew what Love was.

She finally left when I was 10, my mom.  I stayed with my dad, along with my brother.  Keep in mind that with was 30 years ago and for fathers to get full custody of kids was rare.  But I got luck to have the dad I had.  That’s how bad it was for me that Daddy got us and not my mom.  My brother was a few years younger at the time, so it didn’t have the same impact on him that it did with me.  I honestly know who the split was harder on, Daddy or me and my brother.  I think it was a statistical tie.  Going to spend my weekends with her was not fun on any level with me.  She and her new husband were always drinking and getting stoned.  If I wasn’t having any fun, which I never did with them, I was just being a brat according to them.  The boys were always playing, my brother and our new step brother.  But for me, I was never good enough.  I always wanted to go home.  It got to the point at 15 when my dad realized that I was always miserable and quit making me go.  It was a relief.

Growing into adulthood, I was lucky enough to start seeing everything from the outside.  I got to see my mom’s sisters and how they behaved.  See how my mom and her new husband were to be around.  My mom and her sisters were the incarnation in some form of their mother.  They didn’t know any different.  I had it different.  I was able to experience what true motherhood was like by witnessing Grandma.  Mom and her sisters didn’t have that.  They never knew unconditional love as children or even as adults from their mother.  In a way, I feel bad for them for that.  But I also don’t.  They refuse to acknowledge that there is something different in this world.  That they can change their perspective.

I got lucky.  I could have ended up like my mother, her sisters and my grandmother.  But at the age of 6 months old, my life changed.